Lineage
by Elani
Summary: How long can you keep a secret? How long can you rule a world? And how long can you fight, when you don't really want to at all? Murtagh OC, Spoilers For Eldest. Unfinished.
1. Of Reading And Riders

Disclaimer – I own nothing but the plot and N'adinea. And anything or anyone else you don't recognise from the books. The world of Alagaesia and all its characters belong to Mr Christopher Paolini. So please don't sue me. It's not worth it.

Author's Note – My first Eragon fic. I've only just discovered Eragon, and in a space of about three weeks I've read both Eragon and Eldest, and watched the film. And this fic was influenced by both. It's kind of my version of the third book but centred on events in Galbatorix's palace. Stupidly I had no idea that so many people would have used this kind of storyline but I do hope you will continue to read Lineage nonetheless. I know sometimes my grammar and punctuation are awful but hang in there! I am getting better!

_Summary – How long can you keep a secret? How long can you rule a world? And how long can you fight, when you don't really want to at all?_

_Lineage_

_Chapter One – Of Reading And Riders_

_**Seventeen years ago…**_

_The earth shook._

_There was a deafening crash and the sound of shattering glass, followed by cries of alarm. Explosions rocked the ground again. More screaming, this time words of the ancient language ring out into the night, frantic, afraid. A thud as someone falls, a cracking of bone and a strangled cry. Splintering wood accompanied by a guttural roar. Frenzied chaos and thundering feet. More shouts, a flash of light, and then sudden and terrifying silence._

_A cold, calm voice speaks and then nothing. Not even a whisper of the wind._

_Until the high-pitched wail of a child begins. And then floorboards groan and the ominous tread of heavy boots accompany the cries._

_And then silence._

_Terrifying silence._

_- - - -_

Galbatorix's eyes flew open and he drew in a rasping breath, as if he'd been starved of oxygen. He withdrew his hand from her pale flesh like it burnt red hot; staring at the fading shimmer of the Gedwey Ignasia. His gaze fell to her for a moment, his lip half-curling in disgust. His fists balled and he turned on his heel and strode from the room, disgusted at her and disgusted at himself for not being able to commit fully to that feeling.

"Wake her" he snapped at a cowering slave as he let the door slam behind him, passing the terrified girl in a swirl of billowing black cloak. He stormed through the labyrinth of passages to his study and threw the door open, slamming it shut angrily.

"_It angers you does it not?"_

"What angers me?" he retorted, turning to face the enormous black dragon that lounged in the centre of the cavernous room.

"_That you cannot despise her. That you have never quite been able to."_

"She will become expendable soon. Once I can have any elf, any human, or any half-breedI want she will matter not."

"_You speak it but you do not believe it. You harbour affection for her. It is the reason you kept her."_

"No. I kept her because humans were not enough. If you recall, they died. Even if I didn't take all of them."

Shruikan fixed one eye on him. _"You kept her because even as a child she did not fear you."_

_- - - -_

N'adinea always spent her mornings in the library. She spent many of her afternoons there to, when she was too tired to go outside, or to weak for archery practice, which was becoming more and more often these days.

She sighed as she wandered the familiar path through the aisles of the dark, draughty room, passing history as she did. War after war, king after king were all recorded in these texts and she'd read so many of them she almost felt as if she'd been present. Past the Fall of The Riders, past the history of Eragon the First, past the Great War between Dragons and Elves, and then turn left, to a small, dusty alcove at the back of the cavernous room. One bookcase of poetry, of heroic tales and heart-wrenching stories. One bookcase in the whole library.

N'adinea had read every single text at least twice. She'd once asked her Father if she could have more poetry, more stories, something that wasn't a bloody account of a fist fight between two Urgals, but he had replied that she should live in the real Alagaesia, and not fill her mind with stupid tales spun by traitors.

She picked up one scroll, an Elven tale about love that she was sure her Father did not know resided in his library. She was always drawn to this tale, about the love between a human and an elf. She had no world of her own, except this palace and this library, and she liked to read about what was outside it. Even if she never got the chance to see it.

She froze when she heard the footsteps, a quick but heavy tread. They stopped for a moment, and then continued again where the owner must have turned down an aisle. N'adinea let out the breath she was holding in a quiet whoosh of air and relaxed her shoulders. Quietly she moved to the end of the bookcase hiding her alcove and peered round into the main aisle.

Nothing.

She leant back against the bookcase, apprehension and excitement building in her stomach. Not once, in the many hours she had spent wandering the library, had she ever come across another person in here. It had become her own little world and she was curious as to who had invaded it. Should she introduce herself to them? Her Father never spoke of anyone else in the palace and N'adinea was kept in near solitude, only speaking to him and her servant. Father said it was for her heath, people would only tire her more.

The footsteps stopped and N'adinea jumped as a thud suddenly broke the quiet, echoing through the room as a text hit the floor. A rough, male voice uttered a curse and then the footsteps started again, moving toward the library entrance. N'adinea peered around the bookcase again, watching the black-clad figure as he strode out of the library. He wasn't a soldier, they weren't allowed anywhere near the private quarters of the palace, where the library was. Father said they were coarse and unruly and he would have them nowhere near her. So who was he, to be able to wander freely through _her _library?

She slowly traced his steps toward the entrance, and then quickened her pace halfway down. Perhaps she should follow him. But she slowed again. That would anger her Father, and she couldn't just stalk this stranger. It would dishonour her.

She dropped her scroll on one of the reading tables set out along the centre of the main aisle and curtsied deeply to a gilded chair. Perhaps he was a noble's son on a visit to the palace and Father would introduce them.

"Lady N'adinea. I am honoured to meet you"

She shook her head.

"Lady N'adinea, daughter to the King…no…Lady N'adinea, daughter of King Galbatorix. I am honoured to meet you…"

She curtsied again this time bowing her head.

"I am honoured…daughter to King Galbatorix's…daughter of King Galbatorix…"

Pulling out the chair she bowed her head again and then sat on it gracefully, arranging her skirts so they billowed around her and nodding politely to the imaginary dinner guest next to her.

"Lady N'adinea?"

N'adinea jumped and shot to her feet, hands clutched to her chest.

"Zarah you startled me" she said, straightening the front of her gown to cover her embarrassment, "What is it?"

"I beg your forgiveness but your Father requests your presence at lunch" the girl replied, head bowed.

"Of course" N'adinea picked up the scroll and handed it to the girl as she passed her.

"Take this to my rooms."

"As you wish Lady N'adinea."

- - - -

N'adinea picked at the food before her, pushing it round her plate as she tried to determine the best way to approach the subject of the man in the library. She wasn't sure whether to be subtle in her questioning, or whether to just jump right in and ask who he was. She also had to consider that whatever she said may actually get him into trouble with her Father.

"Something amiss with your meal, N'adinea?"

"No Father. I was just…just wondering…does anyone else reside at the palace? Except the servants of course. Perhaps…"

"Perhaps who?" he prompted, not looking up from his meal.

"I don't know. Perhaps…a noble's son or a Lord…"

He looked up sharply this time. "What makes you think people beside us reside here?"

"N-nothing…I just wondered, is all."

She looked away from his piercing gaze, uncomfortable as she always was under his scrutiny.

"Something must have put it into your head. Have the servants tongues been loose again?"

N'adinea jumped as he snapped a bone and let the pieces fall one by one onto his plate.

"No…" she said quietly, "I just thought the palace is so vast…"

"In the whole seventeen years you have lived in this _vast_ palace that thought just…popped into your head today. Is that what I'm to understand?"

"Yes" it was barely a whisper.

"I see," he leant forward, propping his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together slowly, "Perhaps you would like to tell me why you really asked that question, N'adinea"

"I…I saw someone in the library."

"Someone?"

"A bo-no a man" she corrected herself, shifting in her seat.

"When was this?" he asked sharply.

"This morning. Just before Zarah fetched me."

Galbatorix's face hardened and he was silent, staring into the distance as he always did when he conversed with Shruikan, his dragon. N'adinea watched his features to see if they betrayed anything of the silent conversation. But they did not.

"It does not matter" he said finally, turning back to his meal.

N'adinea watched him for a moment, then taking a deep breath she said, "Father, who is he?"

Galbatorix did not answer, merely took a sip from his goblet and set it back down with a dull chink.

She took another breath. "Father I've been thinking. I'd enjoy the company of another. Someone my own age perhaps? Maybe I could meet with some of the noble's children? If you'd allow it of course" she added, bowing her head, "It's just…just I have never spoken to anyone except the servants and you. And I would like too."

"My company is not good enough for you?" he shot down the beginnings of her protest with a look, "Have I not told you, there are people who would use you against me. And we have to take your illness into consideration. You tire easily N'adinea and company will only make it worse."

He stopped and stared into the distance again.

"Perhaps…" he muttered, "I suppose it is of little consequence…"

He turned his gaze on her and sat back in his chair.

"I will think on it. Although I do not think it is in your best interests to _associate_ with other nobles, Shruikan and I may have another solution."

"Thank you Father" she replied, trying to disguise her disappointment. She should have known he would only grant her wish if it was agreeable to him.

"_He is only protecting you"_ a little voice in her head whispered.

Still it was disappointing. She looked up and dared one last question.

"Who was the man in the library Father?"

"Patience daughter. You may yet find out."

- - - -

N'adinea shivered and tugged the blankets closer. This alcove in her rooms was her favourite place to read. She would wrap herself in furs and curl up on the window seat, leaning her elbows on the sill and alternating her reading with staring out at the distant hills. And she sat there now, the scroll in her hand forgotten. It had been a fortnight since the library and she still could not get him out of her head. Who he was, why she had never seen him before, why he was in the palace? The stories she weaved about him in her own mind became more and more elaborate as the days passed. One day he was a rich noble, the next he was an orphan her Father had taken in, the next he was a brave warrior bestowed with the greatest honour. As it was custom that she ate with her Father every evening, every evening she questioned him on the man. And every evening her Father's reply was the same, "Patience daughter."

She was beginning to tire of patience. She was beginning to tire of her own ignorance. She knew nothing. She was sheltered, kept hidden from everyone and everything because of an illness with no name. And no cure.

And because her Father was King. If the wrong people knew of her existence it would be so easy for them to use her against him. But then he also said that it was just a small uprising of rebels that opposed him, nothing to worry about, and Surda. So why keep her hidden?

She did not understand it. Her doubts were becoming stronger. But she trusted him. He was her Father.

She heard the knock next door, and Zarah answering but she did not move. The door to this chamber opened with a creak.

"Your Father, Lady N'adinea."

He stepped into the room and Zarah shut the door behind him.

"Father," she greeted him, turning from the window.

"The servant girl says you were unwell this morning."

"I am recovered now."

"Good. I have something important planned for this evening. It would disappoint me greatly if you were unwell. I have left a gift in your dressing room. You will wear it tonight. I will also send you another…servant to help with your preparations."

N'adinea smiled, excitement building in her stomach. "Thank you Father. What…what is the occasion?"

His expression gave nothing away as he turned back to the door. "You will find out this evening. Do not be late."

She waited until she heard the second slam of a door before she jumped up and ran to her dressing room. Draped across the ornate chaise lounge was the most exquisite gown she had ever seen.

"It's beautiful…" she breathed, running her fingers over the soft, blood red material, "Beautiful."

She picked it up and held it against herself, watching the skirts billow out in the mirrors that covered one wall of the room as she giddily whirled around. A dress this exquisite could only mean that her wish was being granted. She would finally be introduced to the court! She would be able to talk to the nobles, be able to dance with them. Finally she might have friends, companions.

"Zarah we must begin preparing. I want to look perfect this evening," she commanded, laying the dress back down, "If I am to be introduced to the court I must be flawless, and make a flawless impression. I cannot dishonour my Father."

"Of course my Lady." The dark-skinned girl bowed her head. "You will not."

- - - -

"_Ask yourself why you are bending to her wishes."_

"I am not. I am merely…amusing myself."

"_And if they begin to care for one another?"_

"Then it will strengthen his obedience to me."

"_He cannot disobey you at all. After all, we know his true name."_

"He has found ways around his oaths before. If there is someone here he cares for, he will not want to endanger them."

"_You are overlooking her usefulness in court Galbatorix. Her lineage will make her…prized among the nobles. Why waste her on simple amusement?"_

"If I want to use her as a bargaining tool with members of the court I will. Regardless. For now I will use her for my own amusement."

"_Do you forget she is still not completely under our power? We still have to discover her true name."_

"That is of little consequence. She poses no threat."

"_As you wish."_

_- - - -_

Outside the banquet hall N'adinea smoothed down her dress again and then nervously played with the brown curls that tumbled over her shoulders. Finally with an intake of breath she squared her shoulders and walked through the entranceway, head held high. Her walked slowed as she got further into the room, until she came to a dead stop in front of the table.

The room was empty.

Disappointment welled heavily in her stomach and she felt frustrated tears prick at her eyelids. There was a chink of metal behind her and she spun round to face her Father, surveying her from the darkest corner of the hall.

"Ah N'adinea your ea-"

"There's no one here," she interrupted, unable to hide her disappointment, "I thought…"

"You thought what, N'adinea? And if you had inspected the table more carefully, you would find it is set for three."

"Oh…" she peered over her shoulder, taking in the extra place set.

"Oh" he repeated, mimicking her. He walked towards the table, stopping when he was level with her. Without looking at her he murmured, deathly quiet, "Do not ever speak to me in that manner again, daughter."

"I'm sorry." She lowered her gaze, "Forgive me."

"Ah Murtagh!" he called out suddenly, his demeanour changing in a heartbeat, "I have someone I'd like you to meet."

N'adinea spun to face the opposite end of the hall, watching as a young, dark-haired man strode towards them. He stopped at the side of the table, giving her Father a short bow. N'adinea just stared at him, mouth slightly open, all thoughts of proper conduct flown from her mind.

"King Galbatorix." He seemed unperturbed at her presence. Or at least he hid it well.

"Murtagh this is Lady N'adinea. My daughter."

N'adinea shut her mouth sharply and lowered her gaze, but she didn't miss the small flicker of surprise that crossed his face. He hid it quickly though and repeating the bow he had shown her Father said, "It is an honour to meet the King's daughter, Lady N'adinea."

An involuntary smile crossed her features and she curtsied, inclining her head toward him.

"Daughter this is Murtagh, son of Morzan-my most trusted follower-and part of our new generation of Riders."

"You're a Rider?" she exclaimed before she could stop herself. She looked sideways at her Father but he did not seem angered by her conduct. Murtagh merely nodded in answer and an awkward silence fell. Galbatorix seemed not to notice however as he took his seat at the head of the table.

"Sit."

So they both sat in the places laid out for them, facing across the table. Servants began to bring forward dishes, laying them out before them or serving food from others, but still no one spoke. N'adinea tried to steal secret glances at the Rider but every time she did he would look up and catch her, and she would have to quickly avert her gaze. It was as if he could tell exactly when her eyes were on him. And then as one course was being cleared she looked up to catch him studying her. Their eyes met, but he broke the contact quickly, staring back down at his plate.

N'adinea was so engrossed in her own thoughts she didn't hear her Father the first time he called her.

"N'adinea…N'adinea!" he barked. She jumped and shook her head.

"Sorry Father," she said apologetically. He turned his gaze back to Murtagh.

"N'adinea's illness makes it hard for me to introduce her into the court. She's vulnerable. If she were to suffer an attack at an in-opportune moment…and also if those we didn't want to found out about her…which is why I trust you Murtagh. I am confident N'adinea will be safe in your company."

Murtagh bowed his head. "You think highly of me."

N'adinea blushed slightly but said nothing. She wasn't sure if this was worse than being alone. Her Father forcing people to be friends with her.

"Perhaps you two would like to speak alone? I have important matters to attend to, as Shruikan keeps reminding me, and the meal is over," he stood, and Murtagh followed suit, "Goodnight Murtagh, N'adinea."

Murtagh sat back down as her Father left and they both studiously avoided the other's gaze. Finally, after a silence that stretched into an uncomfortable tension N'adinea blurted out, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for him to just thrust us together."

"What?" he replied shortly, shifting in his seat.

"I mean…well when I asked I thought he would…I didn't think he'd just…you are the man from the library aren't you? And when I wanted to know who…" she trailed off, going slightly pink.

Murtagh started at her in confusion.

"I'm not making much sense am I?" She gave him a wry smile. He smiled back at her.

"No you're not Lady N'adinea."

They both laughed and N'adinea let her face drop into her hands before looking back up at him.

"Well a few weeks ago I saw you in the library. At least I presume it was you. Anyway I asked my Father who you were-because I'd never seen anyone else in the palace-"

"I've been here for month's" he interjected.

"Well I'd never seen you and Father never spoke of you. He wouldn't tell me who you were…so you live here?" she said suddenly, surprise evident in her tone. He nodded.

"Then how come I didn't-"

"I didn't know you existed either until a few hours ago."

"How can we have been living in the same palace and not have seen each other? It's impossible."

"Your Father can make whatever he wishes happen. And anyway, apparently we did see each other. Well you saw me at least. I'll have to be more careful next time I visit the library."

"You will. Next time I might be dangerous."


	2. Remembrance

Disclaimer – I own nothing but the plot and N'adinea. And anything or anyone else you don't recognise from the books. The world of Alagaesia and all its characters belongs to Mr Christopher Paolini. So please don't sue me. It's not worth it.

Author's Note – My first Eragon fic. I've only just discovered Eragon, and in a space of about three weeks I've read both Eragon and Eldest, and watched the film. And this fic was influenced by both. It's kind of my version of the third book but centred on events in Galbatorix's palace. Stupidly I had no idea that so many people would have used this kind of storyline but I do hope you will continue to read Lineage nonetheless. I know sometimes my grammar and punctuation are awful but hang in there! I am getting better!

_Summary – How long can you keep a secret? How long can you rule a world? And how long can you fight, when you don't really want to at all?_

_Lineage_

_Chapter Two – Remembrance_

N'adinea narrowed her eyes in concentration. With a twang she loosed her bow and her arrow flew through the air with a whoosh, striking the practice target just off-centre. She made an indignant huff and immediately began to nock another arrow. N'adinea had practiced archery since she was child, just in case. Her Father had always said that there was no need for her to learn to fight. He was confident that no one who meant her harm would ever get close to her, but he had agreed to have this archery room built for her because she told him it was just for amusement. Again N'adinea took aim carefully, gauging just how much power the arrow would need to reach it's target, and just as she was about to shoot-

"If this were a battle you would not have had this long to take aim."

N'adinea whirled round and in a heartbeat loosed the arrow so it would fly just over Murtagh's right shoulder. He grinned and holding up his hand the arrow slowed until it came to a complete stop. He plucked it out of the air and twirled it round his fingers.

"That's not fair." She turned back to the target, preparing her next arrow. "So where have you been? I haven't seen you for…awhile."

After her Father's dinner Murtagh had visited her everyday. Sometimes he would spend the whole day in her company and sometimes he wouldn't arrive for hours or would disappear after lunch. She wasn't quite sure if he did it of his own volition or whether her Father had ordered him to, but she enjoyed his company all the same. They would wander the labyrinth passageways of the palace together-talking, arguing, discussing. Until he had disappeared. For three weeks. Not that N'adinea would have him know she had been counting.

"Gil'ead," was the short reply.

"Mmmm?" she prompted him, but he didn't answer. So she let fly her next arrow. It landed just below the first with a thump.

"Your stance is wrong," he said, walking over to her, "That's why you're not hitting it dead-centre. Get another arrow."

She did-conscious of his watchful eyes on her as she fitted it.

"Now take aim."

Lifting the bow she narrowed her eyes and focused on the centre of the target. Murtagh manoeuvred himself so he was right beside her, his hands moving her shoulders into position.

"That's better," he murmured. He was so close his breath stirred in her hair and she could feel the heat from his body. Her own temperature started to rise and she could feel her face flushing. "Now lift your chin…"

The arrow sailed way over the target.

Murtagh laughed and stepped away from her.

"You put me off!" she cried, stalking away to retrieve her arrows so he wouldn't notice the flush on her cheeks, "Muttering in my ear…"

"My apologies Lady N'adinea. I had no idea my presence was so off-putting."

She could tell by the sound of his voice that he was grinning and she rolled her eyes. "Well it is. And your advice was most unhelpful."

Reaching the target she wrapped a hand round the first arrow, ready to pull it out, to find it was already hovering with its tip just against the wood. "Thank you Murtagh," she called over her shoulder, smiling to herself. The arrow that had wildly missed the target lay a little way off and she wandered over to collect it. She bent to pick it up and turning round as she stood stumbled backwards in surprise, dropping the arrows. Murtagh was right behind her, grinning and holding out her quiver like an offering. She hadn't heard so much as a swish of his cloak.

"I hate it when you do that," she grumbled, scooping up the arrows.

"Do what?" he asked, grinning even more.

"Sneak up on me with your…your rider skills." She dropped her arrows in the quiver he held then stalked past him without taking it.

"I'll just keep hold of this for you then shall I?" he said, following behind her.

"What were you doing in Gil'ead?" she asked, slowing her pace so he came level with her.

"Nothing."

"You've been doing nothing in Gil'ead for three weeks? I find that hard to believe Murtagh," she paused, then, "Were you fighting?"

"No."

She stopped in the doorway and looked up at him. "Searching for the rebels?"

"N'adinea you know I can't tell you." There was a hint of annoyance in his voice and N'adinea knew there was only so far you could push Murtagh.

"Fine," she sighed, "I just wish someone would."

"There's nothing to tell. There are a few rebels. That's all."

"There have only been a _few_ rebels ever since I can remember. If they are so _few_ why have they not been rounded up yet?"

"I've explained this before," he said through gritted teeth, "They're spread over Alagaesia. It is difficult to locate them."

"Well how…" she took one look at his face and decided not to continue with her questioning. Sometimes Murtagh could be as forthcoming as a stone wall.

Murtagh led the way down the passage, N'adinea almost trotting beside him to keep up. This was what they did. Wandered the palace talking, had a disagreement, usually when N'adinea tried to prise information out of him, and then wandered it in silence until someone cracked. It took three passageways and a hidden door before someone did.

"You've been keeping count?" Murtagh asked suddenly. There was a tinge of amusement in his tone, and something else N'adinea couldn't quite place. It intrigued her, but not enough to admit that she had.

"Count of what?" she replied innocently, studying the richly woven tapestries they passed as she had so many times before. They were so ornate that she harboured the secret belief only the Elves could possibly have designed them. But as the Elves were traitors to her Father's throne he would never willingly allow works of theirs to be displayed in his palace. That, she knew, was a certainty.

"Of how long I've been gone." Murtagh's words cut through her thoughts of Elves.

"Oh. It was just a rough estimate," she replied smoothly, running the tips of her fingers along one work.

"It was surprisingly accurate Lady N'adinea."

"Thank you."

This was another aspect of their new, tentative friendship. Occasionally they would return to a more formal manner of addressing each other before those barriers of conduct would fall away and their speech would become familiar once again. It was as if sometimes they almost forgot who they were when together, a Rider and the Daughter of the King. They became just N'adinea and Murtagh.

"Thorn says he missed you. He-"

"He did?" she cut in quickly, surprised.

"Well he missed you fussing round him anyway," Murtagh replied, amused.

"I do not fuss!" she laughed, tilting her head to look up at him. He grinned back at her, and taking on a slightly teasing tone said,

"Thorn can I get you anything? Thorn would you like me to read to you? Thorn would-"

"He enjoys listening to the stories!" she burst out, "It's nice to read them to someone who has never heard or read them before. There are not nearly enough stories in the library and I've read them all."

Murtagh was silent for a moment. Then-

"Thorn can I-"

"Murtagh," she cut him off sharply and then added as an afterthought, "Can I see him?"

"He's in the Dragon Roost. I'll accompany you."

They changed direction, taking a thin corridor that led to a steep set of stairs. Holding her skirts up as she climbed the stairs ahead of him N'adinea said, "We should welcome him back to the palace properly. Honour his presence. As it should be."

"Like you welcomed me by shooting arrows at me," Murtagh muttered from behind her.

"That was your own fault. I was just proving I could react quickly," she replied smoothly, "And it was only one arrow."

"Well what if your aim was off?"

"But it was not," she replied simply.

They climbed the rest of the stairs in silence, until they reached a small, square landing at the top. There was no décor here, just two unlit torches and a heavy oaken door. N'adinea turned the wrought iron handle and pushed but the door refused to budge.

"It's stuck," she said, glaring at the door as if the force of her stare would open it. Murtagh stepped past her and put his shoulder against it, readying himself to push.

"It's not one of the more used routes," he explained as he pushed against the door, "So-"

He was cut off as the door flew open and he half-fell with it. N'adinea breezed past him into the roost, completely unruffled. Although she did have to hold back a smile. She walked into the centre of the dome shaped room, peering into the darkness of the caves situated all around the walls for a glimpse of red. The floor was circular and there were similar oaken doors at ground level for the Riders and their guests, but the dragon caves started well above where a human could reach without aid. A huge archway to her right opened out onto a balcony that bathed in the afternoon sun. N'adinea's gaze snapped upwards as something scraped shrilly against the rock and then with a force that shook the walls Thorn shot out of a cave above her and almost lazily soared down to land beside Murtagh.

"Thorn!" She inclined her head respectfully but she could not keep the excitement out of her voice. Thorn was the first, and only, dragon she had ever seen and she lavished attention on him. But only because Murtagh allowed it. Her obvious adoration of the dragon amused him, but it came from somewhere so far inside her it seemed instinctual to N'adinea. She had never been allowed to indulge in this feeling of reverence before, having never been introduced to her Fathers dragon Shruikan, nor even laid eyes on him, and she delighted in it.

"May he talk with you?" Murtagh asked quietly.

She smiled. "Of course. Thorn there is no need to ask. You will forever have my permission to speak, so long as Murtagh allows it."

Murtagh nodded as Thorn lowered his head to regard N'adinea closely, allowing her to rest her hand gently on his neck.

"_Greetings Daughter of Kings. Have you finished The Lament of Arishuer yet? I have been mulling over Arishuer's predicament while in Gil'ead and I fear he may not have solved his problem."_

"No," she replied, gazing up at him, "I was waiting for your return. It's much more agreeable to read it to you than to read it alone."

There was a deep rumble in Thorn's chest as he lifted his head. _"Then we shall finish it together."_

"As you wish Thorn," she smiled.

- - - -

N'adinea's eyes shot open and immediately she was wide awake. She pushed herself to a sitting position on the bed, surprised at the lack of the usual grogginess that accompanied waking. It must have been early morning, hours before dawn, as the room was still pitch black and it took awhile for her vision to adjust. As soon as she could make out the darker outlines of the furniture she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, wincing at the cold stone on her bare feet. She knew she would not sleep again now. She was too awake.

N'adinea couldn't say exactly where the weakness in her body started as she walked across her bedchamber. It just came. She slowed her walk, confused, her limbs becoming leaden, until finally her legs buckled under her and she slid to the floor. She stayed like that for a long time, her arms propping her up, listening to her shallow breathing, until finally they too gave and she felt the cold of the stone against her cheek. She closed her eyes, fighting against the sudden weariness that had overcome her.

And that's when the images came.

A dark shadow across a clearing that seemed familiar, and yet she couldn't quite place it. It drifted across her memory, just out of reach, dancing away from her. Shouting-harsh and mocking. And then a woman. So beautiful and so striking. But her face was marred with a look of terror. She was on her back in the mud, scrambling frantically away from someone, _something._ There was a house nearby, destroyed. There was glass everywhere and the woman cried out as she crawled over it, cutting her hands. Scarlet blood filled N'adinea's vision. And then the woman held up her hand, her face set. There was a blinding flash of light-

N'adinea moaned quietly and convulsed, hands pressing against her head as if to force the sudden stabbing pain away. The lids of her eyes were full of that light and when she forced them open that was all she could see. And when it finally subsided it left a throbbing ache inside her head that made her eyes water and her limbs jerk. She lay there for a long time; the cold of the stone pressing into her, shaking uncontrollably, until the sun had crept up through the windows and streamed down upon her, bathing her in strips of warm sunlight.

And as suddenly as it had come it was gone. There was no lingering weakness, she felt just as she had when she first awoke. Uncertainly she pushed herself to sitting, fearful that at any moment the weakness would return. Not trusting her limbs quite yet she dragged herself across the floor and pulled herself up onto her bed, collapsing awkwardly against its plush cushions and furs. Next door were beginning the faint noises of life, Zarah and the other servants preparing her breakfast and bath.

But while next door they continued with their normal day, N'adinea knew that she would not be able to rid herself of the image of that woman, nor the feeling that she knew her. Even though she couldn't recall ever seeing her before.

- - - -

That morning N'adinea had told the servants she felt too weak to rise, and she allowed Zarah to blame her illness rather than confide in them the events of the hours before dawn, and she had remained in her bed. But then Murtagh had arrived at her chambers in the afternoon and so now she found herself sat on the balcony of the dragon roost, lounging on overstuffed cushions and wrapped in furs, reading the finale of The Lament of Arishuer aloud to Thorn.

"And so Arishuer, realizing that the old crone was really Girelda, and that she had tricked him into poisoning his only love, snatched the dagger from her hand and…"

She paused for dramatic effect, taking a deep breath.

"Plunged it deep into his own heart. And so ended the tale of Arishuer and Girelda, The Lament of Arishuer."

She shut the book with a snap and looked up at Thorn, who was basking in the last of the evening sun.

"What did you think?" she asked quietly. Murtagh snorted from where he sat, propped against a pillar and reading an account of some battle or another. She shot him a glare. "Yes Murtagh. We all know you prefer something more factual." She looked back up at Thorn, who was now gazing out at the impending sunset.

"_I think the sunset this evening is much like the one described in the story,"_ was his answer. N'adinea extracted herself from her many furs and strolled to the edge of the balcony, resting her hands on the ledge as she stared out over the land at the orange and red blazing sky in the distance. Pink tinged the clouds and she couldn't help feeling awed at the natural beauty of it all. She heard Murtagh get to his feet, and then he was leaning against the ledge next to her. She could feel his eyes on her before finally he followed her gaze towards the rapidly disappearing sun. And so silently the three stood side by side, gazing out over the land until darkness took it all.

- - - -

"It is not working Shruikan," Galbatorix's hissed, smashing his fists down on the dark mahogany of his desk. "We are widely disclosing Murtagh's whereabouts every time we send him away and yet still he does not come."

"_He will be advised against seeking out Murtagh. Have you also considered that by broadcasting Murtagh's location so widely the Varden may have realized that we are using him in the hope of luring Eragon to us?"_

"Why should I not broadcast my Rider proudly to my country? Especially now that the Varden and Surda have no hope in winning this war they insist upon. There is only defeat for them now."

"_The Varden will see it differently. Perhaps their victory on The Burning Plains has given them a false sense of hope?"_

A vein in Galbatorix's temple pulsed and his expression twisted into a snarl. "I made it clear that The Burning Plains was not to be discussed Shruikan."

He whirled around to face a ruby as large as a small boulder set on a pillar that looked as if it were carved out of the very stone of the wall. He placed both hands upon it, a look of angry concentration across his features.

"_Galbatorix you have already-"_

But Galbatorix cut him off harshly. "I will do as I please Shruikan," he growled as the stone began to glow.

- - - -

N'adinea stretched her arm out as far as she could, straining to place the book in her hand back in its place on the top shelf of the bookcase. Not quite having the reach to push the book into place she sighed and carefully stepped up another rung on the ladder. It slid into place, a dull thud as it hit the back of the bookcase, and she began skimming the titles for something she could read that evening. She reached for a scroll in front of her and then suddenly drew her hand back, gripping the ladder tightly.

"No…" she breathed.

Her mind seemed to suddenly fall away from her, as if invisible barriers had suddenly been broken and she could just float out of herself. An attack, her illness. She could feel the solid wood of the ladder drifting away and she tried to grasp at it before it was gone. But it was too late. Unable to stop herself she sagged against it and as if in slow-motion her legs gave and she half-tumbled, half-slid down the ladder. Her ankle caught between two rungs and there was a sickening crack as it broke, and then she hit the floor with a thud, deathly still.

- - - -

"_He…he found her in a pool of her own blood Master…"_

_The voice of a terrified girl. Familiar…_

"…_the best healers…"_

_Powerful and commanding but with a hint of…menace?_

"…_seems to have been drained…an attack…no strength to save herself…"_

_Smooth, businesslike._

"_She hasn't woken yet?"_

_Concern. It stirred something, a feeling. Happiness?_

N'adinea's eyes fluttered. She felt the heaviness of suddenly being forced back into her body that she always felt after an attack and drew in a shuddering breath.

"N'adinea?"

A male voice, familiar. Liked.

Slowly she opened her eyes. The room was dark, lit only by flickering candlelight. She gently turned her head; her eyes finding Murtagh, his face cast half in shadow and half in light by the candles as he sat next to her. She gave him a small smile.

"Murtagh," she breathed. He reached for a goblet set on the table next to him and held it out to her.

"You should drink," he said quietly, "Can you sit up?"

"Yes." Gingerly she pushed herself up and arranged her cushions again so she could lean back against them. She felt a little dazed, and frail, when she suffered an attack of her illness it drained her of all strength for days afterward. Murtagh offered the goblet to her again and she drank from it gratefully, the icy water soothing her parched throat.

"So this it what its like when you have an attack," Murtagh commented, leaning back in his chair, "We all have to run round after you for days."

She looked at him and he gave her an uncertain grin to show he was teasing. She opened her mouth to reprimand him but Thorn beat her too it. Murtagh winced suddenly and then glared upwards as if at his own head, muttering something about "…roaring inside peoples minds."

"How do you feel?" he said finally, looking back at her. She couldn't help the warm feeling building inside at his evident concern, and that he cared enough to be at her bedside almost made her insides dance, for reasons she didn't quite understand.

"Weak," she replied simply, "The attacks just seem to drain me."

She stretched to place the goblet back on the table but Murtagh's arm shot forward and he took it gently from her grasp, placing it down for her.

"What happened?" she asked him, staring at her blankets, "I remember being in the library. I was on the ladder. I…I fell didn't I?"

She looked back up at him then, and he nodded. "You-it…it looked pretty bad when I found you. You were-"

"You found me?" she cut in, unsure and scared of the swell of feelings inside her chest. He nodded again.

"I'd just arrived back from Dras-Leona and was looking for you. I…well Thorn and I…we got something. Something for you I mean. A gift."

His hand disappeared into his cloak and reappeared within seconds, holding out a crudely wrapped parcel. She took it from him with open-mouthed surprise, and resting it on her lap she began to unwrap the coarse brown material. As it fell away she let out a little gasp, running her hand over the rough leather cover of a book.

"You said there were not enough stories in the library," Murtagh offered in explanation. She looked at him, unable to express her thanks in words but trying to convey it all in her gaze. He gazed back at her with something-hope perhaps, before he seemed to shy away, leaning back so shadow claimed his features.

"Thank you," she whispered finally, unable to express how deeply this simple gesture seemed to burn inside her. She ran her fingers across the cover again and then opened the book, flicking slowly through the crisp pages.

"I would imagine Thorn wishes to read this also?" she inquired, a hint of amusement in her tone. She gazed sideways at him, trying to appear as if she was still engrossed in the book.

"I would imagine he does," was the reply. But Murtagh did not venture out of the shadow that hid him.

- - - -

"You know Murtagh; I have never been outside this castle?"

N'adinea turned away from the window to face him as he lowered a thick sheet of parchment from in front of his face so he that could see her.

"Never?" he queried. She nodded.

"Never."

She turned back to the window. "Father doesn't allow it. It's too dangerous. I'm the daughter of a King yet I have never seen any more of his Kingdom than that which I can see from this window."

She looked over her shoulder at him and gestured out of the window to emphasis her point. He followed her arm, gazing out of the window, but he was wearing the distant look he always wore when conversing with Thorn.

"I can take you to see the Kingdom," he said simply, shrugging and then setting the parchment down on the sofa beside him.

"Father wouldn't allow it!" she snapped, exasperated, "Even with your protection he'd say those who oppose him may still be able to get to me."

Murtagh stood up. "Well they would find it extremely difficult to _get_ to you if you were on dragon back. And-" he said firmly, his tone stalling her excited outburst, "As no one has ever seen you, I doubt they will either know who you are nor be looking for you."

N'adinea gaped at him for a minute then in a sudden rush of breath exclaimed, "Flying! Thorn…really…I…I…outside? Oh my…"

Her gaze lowered, the next minute she was shaking her head, and then straightening her back she said, "I am honored you would allow me to fly with you and your dragon Thorn, Rider Murtagh."

She could have sworn she saw him roll his eyes at her sudden display of propriety. But he grinned as he replied, "It is an honor for us that you have accepted."

Murtagh led them the quickest route from her chambers to the roost and N'adinea couldn't help scanning the passageways nervously, as if her Father would jump out at them from behind a suit of armor, or be waiting around the next corner to tell her she could not go. It crossed her mind that maybe she should ask his permission first, that surely he could not deny her request if Murtagh was her guard, but there was still the possibility that he would and then her only chance at seeing some of Alagaesia would be lost. And she refused to lose that chance.

Thorn was already on the balcony when they finally arrived in the roost, a saddle lying on the floor next to him.

"_Daughter of Kings," _he greeted her, lowering his head and allowing her to rest her hand on his forehead. _"You are to fly with us?"_

She nodded. "Yes Thorn."

She stepped away as Thorn lowered himself to the ground so Murtagh could fit his saddle, watching as he tightened various straps and buckles. Once he had finished Thorn reared up, twisting his neck from side to side and making the stone tremble. And then he lowered himself to the ground again, one eye on N'adinea.

"_Come."_

She moved forward and Murtagh took her arm, helping her to climb up onto Thorn. He strapped her legs into the saddle and as she watched him she realized there was only one set.

"M-Murtagh?" she asked quietly, looking down at him, "There's no straps left for you."

"I'll be fine," he replied breezily, leaping up onto Thorn behind her. "You ready?"

She nodded, a knot of uncertainty in her stomach. But she looked out at the land before them and smiled.

"Lean forward."

She did as he said, leaning forward so her chest pressed against Thorn's neck, her hands gripping the edges of the saddle either side of her. Murtagh leaned forward too and she was glad her face was hidden because she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks at his weight pressing down against her. She saw Thorn's wings unfold from the corner of her eyes and then with a mighty push from his hind legs that must have made the balcony floor shudder he took off, shooting straight up into the air. N'adinea screamed and buried her face against Thorn's neck, terrified that at any moment the force of the air would rip her from the saddle. And then it stopped. Uncertainly she raised her eye line a fraction. Murtagh nudged her.

"Look."

The pressure of his weight on her was lifted and she could sit up. Thorn had leveled out and he was now soaring languidly over the landscape. She twisted to look over her shoulder at the city, the palace in its centre. Then she turned to look forward, her gaze roving over the landscape.

"Where can we take you Lady N'adinea?" Murtagh asked from behind her, amusement barely concealed in his tone.

"Everywhere…" she whispered in reply.

- - - -

"It is not working."

Galbatorix did not sound angry but merely intrigued. He pressed his hands against the stone again, lowering the barriers of his mind, but again he felt nothing and the ruby beneath his palms did not glow.

"How can it not be working?" he hissed, glaring at the stone now as if it held some secret it would not reveal to him.

"_She must not be in range of the stones power."_

Galbatorix turned slowly, menacingly.

"How can she not be in range?" His tone was low, deadly. The two looked at each other for a long, silent moment.

"Toan!" Galbatorix roared. A young boy skidded into the room and bowed so low his nose almost touched his knees.

"Master?"

"I wish to see my daughter. Search the castle for her. And when you find her, I want you to remember her _exact _location and inform me of it. Now go!"

The boy sprinted off immediately, tripping over himself to escape the room. Galbatorix then sat at his desk, twirling a silver goblet round by its stem. He picked it up, intently studying its design and then disdainfully let it slip through his fingers so it clanged against the floor, its blood red contents spilling out over the stone.

- - - -

N'adinea did not care that the damp grass was soaking through the expensive material of her dress. She did not care that her exquisite slippers were covered in mud, or that it had rained and her hair hung in damp tendrils around her face. She sat there quite happily in this little copse of trees near the Ramr River, with Murtagh next to her and Thorn standing in the river drinking great gulps of the icy water. Thorn had flown them both over the countryside surrounding Uru'baen and then Murtagh had picked this spot to land so that Thorn could rest awhile. N'adinea shivered a little and next to her Murtagh started.

"Time to go back," he said as Thorn shot out of the river in front of them, cascades of water shooting everywhere.

- - - -

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter." Galbatorix called gruffly. Noiselessly the door swung open and Toan appeared. He bowed again and then spoke to his feet, as if he dared not look at his Master for fear of being punished for it.

"M-Master your daughter could not be found anywhere within the palace."

Galbatorix leant forward across his desk, resting his elbows against it and lacing his fingers together.

"You searched everywhere?"

Toan shuffled backwards "We searched the whole palace Master. Twice. She…she is not inside…"

Galbatorix sat back. "Go," he said, waving his hand dismissively. Toan eagerly scampered off.

"_Perhaps now you should scry them, Galbatorix."_

- - - -

Murtagh reached up and lifted N'adinea down, placing her gently on the floor. She stepped away from him quickly, her cheeks tingeing pink and her waist burning where his hands had been. She opened her mouth to speak, but unsure how to express her feelings she ended up simply saying-

"Thank you. Both of you thank you."

But the way she spoke must have conveyed something more because Murtagh muttered incomprehensibly and looked away from her. N'adinea reached up to pat Thorn's shoulder, hiding behind her hair.

"I'll take you back to your rooms before I unsaddle Thorn. You need to get warm," he said finally.

She nodded and allowed him to guide her away.

- - - -

"Murtagh."

"You wished to speak with me, my King?" Murtagh inclined his head to Galbatorix, who sat at his desk twirling a new silver goblet between his fingers.

"I did. I wished to speak with you about where you took my daughter today."

Murtagh's face tightened but he said nothing. Galbatorix looked at him out of the corner of his eye and then smashed the goblet down upon on the desk, so that liquid sloshed over its rim.

"_My_ daughter Murtagh," he said quite calmly, "And you know as well as I that there are many of my-of _our-_enemies who would be glad of an advantage over me. I think you understand my meaning. Do not take her outside of this palace again Murtagh."

"Yes my King."


End file.
